


Haunted

by monokuma_theater



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Other, Reader Insert, noncon, porn with a plot, reader with vag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:19:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5370008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monokuma_theater/pseuds/monokuma_theater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're just a completely ordinary college student living in a post monster world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

You had never been very lucky in life. Some days, frankly, you wanted to give up. But you had determination and held on.

Recently, you were starting to feel like your determination was finally, finally paying off.

Even though you had bottom barrel grades and a shitty attendance record all throughout high school, you had gotten into your first choice university. On top of that, you had got a full scholarship that included room and board. You were sure there had been some mistake but you weren’t about to pursue that line inquiry.

Even this dorm of yours was a dream come true.

You had applied for a single person room; on a whim, really. There was no way someone like you would get it. But just a week before the move-in date, you received a letter from the school saying that under recommendation of your doctor a single person room was needed for you and your request was approved.

Well, you didn’t have a doctor. Like, maybe you needed one; sure, but you sure as heck couldn’t afford one.

You were benefiting from someone’s mistakes and it took you a few weeks to be okay with that.

While you had never been to the city the university was in before your move-in day, you had for, some reason, always wanted to live there. Your inexplicable feeling was right; you absolutely loved it. Not that you got out much, but you loved every quaint small business and aged building fronts. You loved the ancient trees, the fields of flowers and the cobblestone roads. It was like traveling back in time and made you feel, for once in your life, at home.

This was an opportunity of a lifetime and…

You were on the precipice of fucking it completely up every single day.

You had _absolutely_ no idea what to major in so you applied under Undeclared. You had until the end of Sophomore year to make a declaration but you were already feeling like trash about it. Everyone else in your class had drive, had goals; knew exactly who they were and what they wanted to do. Except you.

You’d tell anyone who asked that you just wanted to get all the electives and gen ed courses out of the way, to which you often got mummers of support and “Good idea, I should have done that,” but you were fairly certain that your lie was transparent and others were mocking you with fake sympathy. You hated it.

Your classes were simultaneously overwhelming and under stimulating. You were struggling keeping all your grades above failing. Well, all except for one;

This semester you were taking Introduction to Monster History as an elective.

The speed which the overworld had gotten use to the monsters being back was nothing short of incredible. It was like they never left. By the end of the week, it was old news.

Especially in the city you were in. It was the first one monsters reached when they came down from the Mount Ebott. The outskirts of the city wrapped around the mountains base; civilization petered out, the last road turned into a dirt path that led to the woods that went all the way to the top.

You knew because you had walked it before. The barrier may have been broken but a fall like that sounded pretty good at the time. Last semester’s finals had been particularly killer on your self esteem.

But now, you finally had a class you were _actually_ good at.

Even on your very worst days, you still dragged yourself to this class. You weren’t afraid to be called on randomly, to raise your hand or just blurt an answer out.

Sometimes, when you did your reading assignment, it felt like you had read them before. And even when you winged a test you basically got everything right.

Was this what it was like to be good at something? You were sure you had never felt happier in your entire life.

But you were still, unfortunately, you; so when the final project was assigned you waited the last minute to do anything about it. The final was in three parts; part one was your typical test, part two and three went hand in hand. You had to write a research paper and do an interview with a monster that later had to be quoted in your paper with proper citations.

At first that third part sounded pretty impossible but many of your classmates were monsters and most of them were really eager to share about their lives in the underground.

The professor had kindly set up a suggestion board for theses. But, as aforementioned, since you waited until the last moment, every last one of them was gone. That’s when you panicked and realized you better kicked it into high gear.

So, you spent the rest of the week pouring over your class books. Then over books in the library that were written by monsters (you were surprised how unorthodox and laid back the nonfiction books were written).

The more and more you read, the more you realized how absolutely in love with monster history you were.

You had to write a paper that would blow your teacher away. If you got a good grade on this…yes, if you get a good grade on this you would absolutely declare your major to History with a focus on Monsterkind!

You exhausted the library’s resources with speed that surprised you. You scourged the internet. Your interests jumped from one topic to another. Your notebook was filled with notes and thesis ideas. Many you deemed too boring after an hour of reading up on it.

You needed a way to narrow everything down and make a choice. So, you decided to make a timeline with different color highlighters, each color representing an important monster to their culture and then in their colors you’d highlight your notes and the one that monster or that time period had the most interesting facts you would write about.

Maybe something even ridiculously specific, like trade of monsterfood during such and such time. You didn’t know what you were looking for until the third or fourth time you had to start the timeline over.

You had been, up until that point, ripping out the notebook pages, crumpling them up and tossing them on the floor because you had believed you were messing up.

But it wasn’t you that was messing it up (for once), it was something about the source material that was messed up.  
Dates weren’t lining up right. Birth dates, death dates, dates of important events. Your yellow highlighter was frequently going over the purple one. And there there were gaps that none of the highlighters could fill.

You knew what your paper was going to be about.

Going back through all the books you had taken from the library and all the books you had for your class, you went through the text with laser focus. You returned to the internet until you were on the tenth O in the google.

Due to how long monsters lived and how peaceful they were, they didn’t really have that much history to get all tangled up in, it wasn’t like it was with humans. Everything flowed smoothly from one year to another, a clear and easy to see timeline like a 12 piece puzzle, except…except for one thing.

One piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit into any of the groves right yet came in the box with the others.

Armed with actual notecards and a notebook filled with actual honest to god research for once you were ready to start your paper at the final hour.

The blank word doc started at you and you back at it.

You attempted to pluck out some kind of a title:

Who is W.D Gaster? (You deleted it.)

Where is W.D Gaster? (You deleted it.)

When is W.D Gaster? (You deleted it.)

Your eyes were feeling kinda heavy. When was the last time you slept? Days likely but you couldn’t sleep yet not now that you were actually working on something. You still had to interview someone and this thing was due on Monday at 12:00 am on the dot and it was Friday.

Maybe it was time for a change of music, you thought but forgot what you were doing after opening the tab.

Time to throw in the town for today, there was no way you could work like this. You still had two full days to do this which was one day extra than your usual poor planning cram sessions. So, instead of whatever screaming metal you were going to turn on, you turned a nature sound generator on instead.

(You set it to rain on roof at 79%, wind in leaves at 62%, thunder at 100% with the second option in the green bar drop down menu) and forest ambience at 79%)

Your muscles relaxed the moment you hit the bed, falling back on it with a triumphant umph. Lulled by the sounds coming from your computer, you fell asleep before you could even get under the covers.

Something woke you up.

Your computer which should have been emitting the soothing sounds of a rain storm was now making an awful garbled static. It had cut through the quiet of your dorm so suddenly and loudly that it had woken you up. There was a strange rattling sound you recognized but you knew you shouldn’t be hearing. Your brain was too tired to worry too much about any of this.

It was dark outside, dark in your room. You didn’t bother looking at your clock to see what time it was.

You didn’t feel like getting up and investigating that strange sound, or fixing the awful sound coming from your computer. You were so tired that the discordant sounds couldn’t stop you from closing your eyes and getting back to sleep.

Something grazed your cheek gently and in your half asleep state you reflectively leaned into that something without a thought. Whatever was touching you gave off the feeling of being shocked, like static electricity; only low and cold and constant. It wasn’t entire unpleasant. And the feeling of deja vu rattled in your sleepy head. Was this a dream?

Maybe one you’ve had before?

And then you felt your hair get mossed about, which caused you to open your eyes. You didn’t turn the ceiling fan on before you went to bed, there wasn’t like a breeze or anything in your room.

You felt it again, more distinct this time, like someone running their fingers through your hair.

Startled, you went to get up as quick as possible. You mind rationally jumped to There Is A Massive Spider In My Hair. And you were going to get it out, only—

Your movement was met with resistance. Your shoulders weren’t even a half an inch off the bed before you found yourself pushed back down. 

Pinned.

There was that rattling sound again.

You attempted to move your legs. You could wiggle them a bit but not get them up. The same with your arms. What…? What was this!? Was this sleep paralysis?

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the room felt big and dizzy. The static from your computer was barely audible over the pounding of your own heartbeat in your ear drum.

There was another noise, that weird rattling sound again.

It clicked in your brain finally. It was the sound of your keyboard. It was missing a leg so it hopped up and down, rattling against your desk, when being typed on.

You had just seen the screen of your desktop for a half of a second when you had jolted up. Just enough time to see a line of new type on it before you had been pinned down to the bed.

Something brushed against your neck causing you to yelp. You turned your head even though there was no way you could angle your face to see what it was.

Outside the corner of your eye, you could see another line being added to your semi-blank word doc. From your bed you couldn’t make it out but it didn’t exactly look like letters. You could see a third line start just as something that most definitely felt like hand push your head so that you were looking at the ceiling.

You heard your keyboard rattle again.

You tried to jerk your head out of the invisible grasp but it held firm, the feeling of large unseen fingers dug into your jawline.  
Another invisible hand settled around your throat, this one squeeze for a second and you panicked. Maybe you were having a stroke, people choke to death then don’t they? You were having some kind of strange stroke and you were going to suffocate on your own organs.

The pressure on your neck grew tighter and tighter while was felt unmistakably like hands ran across your chest. It then let up completely, suddenly, while the hands on your chest explored your shape. You gasped for breath.

While you were busy getting air in your lungs the hands left your chest and started to navigate south. They ran along your sides, stretching down to your stomach.

With what limited movement you had, you struggled against whatever force was keeping you on the bed. It was moving under the shirt now, you tried to get a look at it but you couldn’t get your head out of the vice grip.

Struggling only made the unseen force hold onto you tighter.

When what felt very much like hands reach your bearskin again you gasped, the touch was cold yet electric and you could feel goosebumps being raised. And you could feel two new hands run down the sides of your hips to your legs.

They just barely touched your thighs as they rans down your legs, finger tips spidering over your skin. Harder, they pressed against your calves and then again up to your thighs, on the inside now before pulling your legs farther apart. 

You were starfished; pinned on your bed like a frog waiting to be dissected.

What felt unmistakably like a finger pressed itself against your lips as the sensation of hands returned to your chest, this time under your clothes. You weren’t going to let _whatever_ this was in your mouth. You kept your lips such even as the fingers were massaging your chest, roughly then softly, pulling and digging in.

The energy they were giving up almost had you gasping but you kept your lips good and shut, that is; until whatever this was pressed down on your clit,phasing right through your clothes.

The sudden shock made you gasp and the fingers invaded your mouth. You gagged against the intrusion, attempting to push what really felt like two large fingers from going farther into your mouth, your tongue was overpowered and they slide down it with easy, pushing to the back of your throat, where you started gagging anew, just when you thought you were going to throw up the fingers moved back. Your face was already beginning to feel sore from how stretched your lips were across the fingers.

The tip of an unseen finger was rubbing circles against your clit at a painfully slow pace, the movement felt almost mechanical; lacking any sort of variation.

The low static hum being pulsed into you from the touch caused your hips to buck and you were mortified at yourself, trying to gain purchase, trying to urge whatever was happening to you to happen _harder and faster_.

This hallucination, this nightmare, took the hint and picked up speed. You whined, your steadily heavy growing breath muffled by the fingers that were running the length of your mouth. Drool was slipping passed your lips, being pushed out by the friction of the fingers, running down to your chin.  
You hips were jerking, everything was so overwhelming, hands were at your side running slow, tips of fingers barely grazing your skin, hands ran from your neck over to your chest, giving you the vague sense that your pulse and heart beat were being checked upon continuously.  
Your hair was being touched; gently. Lovingly. Your checks being brushed upon by backs of invisible hands, and just when you thought you were at your limit, a finger was running the length of your vagina.

Only now did you realize how wet you were, feeling your own fluid being rubbed against your folds.

You were attempting to mentally ready yourself for what was going to happen next. You knew it was coming. The finger pushed itself to what you assumed was the knuckle on the single go, the length filling your limit. It knocked the wind out of you. The silent moan was caught in your throat and the force of the entry caused your upper half to lift up, braced against the hands that were holding your shoulders down.

You fell back on the bed and bucked your hips, which pushed the massive finger further in. You had thought there was no way that there was more to it, but you were wrong. It hit up against the farthest part of you and freed the muted cry.

Your moan was muffled by the fingers pumping away in the same slow mechanical pacing.

You were focusing now on keeping your body as still as possible but you were shaking. The feeling of electrify ran through your cunt and you couldn’t take it.

Another finger joined in and, as wet as you were, you were feeling uncomfortably stretched. What was being inserted into you felt like burning against your clenching walls.

The fingers curled, keeping their steady pace. You sobbed against the fingers that were once again pushing the limits of your gag reflexes.

You heard your keyboard rattle again.

Losing yourself now, your hips rose and fell; desperate for more speed so you could _**just** finish already_.

A new set of hands held your hips firmly in place while the fingers worked. This time your movements didn’t prompt them to work faster.  
You let out a panicked cry when your lower half was suddenly lifted up. You were being supported and your mind was scrambling for logical explanations.

None came to mind.

Two hands were gently spreading your ass and you gave a half-hearted struggle, you didn’t hand the grip to tighten but you wanted out of this. You could barely form complete thoughts at this point and you were dizzy from trying to make sense of what was happening.

The two fingers pulled out and, despite yourself, you cried out at the loss in desperation. One of the two fingers pushed into your anus completely, your own fluids weren’t enough to make that entry comfortable. If you weren’t being muffled you were sure your dorm neighbor would have heard the noise you made.

The finger was slowly working in and out of you, just like it had in your pussy a moment ago.

A new finger had replace the two that had left and started at a sudden, quick pace, curling just right against your g spot. The pace was unbearable and the fingers holding you in place were gripping hard as your body attempted to curl up on itself.

The finger on your clit was coming down hard on you now. You could feel it bruising already and yet it wasn’t enough. You weren’t surprised to feel tears running down your face but you couldn’t remember when you had started crying. Your choked sobs and moans were muffled by the fingers in your mouth. Your were just barely aware of the keyboard rattling.

You were so close to cumming, so close, so close…!

You knew a flood of feelings would hit you. Fear, shame…satisfaction, but for this moment your mind was blank as your own liquid ran hot down your ass. You heard yourself drip on your bed and the first thought you had when your mind returned was what a pain the laundry would be.  
As you came, one of the hands on your chest travelled to your centre. You were still being held up by the hands which you had hoped without reason would just vanish after you came. You had your entire weight on them, limp and a final moan was shaking from your throat.

The hand at your middle _pushed_ into you. The horrible sensation of been punched through like a fork stabbing through the plastic in a microwaved meal. Your moan turned into a scream.

The sensation not necessarily painful but frightening and _wrong_.

There’s a squeezing pressure all around your chest, all around your entire self. Were you dying!? Was this dying!?

You feel yourself lose consciousness.


	2. Chapter Two

The next time you opened your eyes, you were greeted with the hard light of the setting sun. You were nice and cozy in bed; naked, under your dry sheets and comforter. For the briefest of a moment, your mind was pleasantly blank. Just taking in the sounds of the rain being generated by your computer.

Slowly, the stresses of life trickled into your stream of conscious. Money, social interactions, homework…

Homework.

You still had that paper to finish. 

Wait.

Wasn’t it night the last time you were awake? Panic filled you as what you had experienced last night came flooding back into your mind. What day was this?!

You jolted up quickly,but hesitant for a hair of a second; afraid that you would be pinned down like you had been last night but you got up without interference. There wasn’t any sort of stain from your own wetness on your comforter. You, then, frantically fumbled for your phone on your night stand to check the date.

It was the same day. 

You had slept for only an hour or so. Had it… had it really been just a wild dream? You didn’t remember getting undressed before getting into bed but you must have. Wow, you must have been really out of it.

You threw the blankets off you, swinging your legs over the side of your bed. The feeling of what you dreamt hung in your mind as you took your first step, almost collapsing to the floor. Your legs were NOT ready to have your weight on them. You caught yourself on your bed, using it to stand and steady yourself.

You managed to hobble your unwilling body to the bathroom. While you peed, you noticed you had a few new bruises. You couldn’t remember where you got them. They were deep and purple and about the size of a large thum-no, that’s ridiculous. 

It was a dream.

After half-heartedly brushing your teeth and washing your face, you opened the medicine cabinet, pausing only a moment to look at yourself in the mirror.

It sure was you, wasn’t it? 

You looked tired.

You grabbed the medicine case from your medicine cabinet. It was divided by days of the week and you had been doing fairly decent job at keeping up. You should have taken them this morning but hadn’t. Better late than never, right? That would have explained that dream, right? It felt so real. 

Another reason this school appealed to you so much was the resources it gave ill students. You would have never been able to afford medication on your own. Counseling outside of the general guidance did cost extra out of pocket stuff, unfortunately. You’d rather save your money for the occasional pizza and, in your opinion; a therapist and pizza were practically the same thing.

Finished with your daily waking tasks, you stepped back into the living part of your dorm.

It was just a single room with no separation for work and sleep. You were on the first floor, with a wide window that overlooked the recreation lawn. Sometimes, when the weather was nice, you’d watch the other students enjoy frisbee or a bbq. It made you lonely. Sometimes. You wanted to join. Other times it made you annoyed that people could have so much energy and free time. Somedays, you hated the sound of laughter.

Your work desk was attached just under the window. The A.C jutted out over it so you had to have your printer under the table.

There was a nightstand where you had a tiny lamp and where you usually kept your phone. A build in closet is where you kept your clothes, you had trouble opening because of your bed. The room was designed for nothing bigger than a twin in mind, but you could never get to sleep in small beds.

Everything you owned was grey or black, except a few knickknacks from your childhood that you didn’t know how to part with and an assortment of mismatched flower pots. You did your best at keeping them alive. 

Most of them were looking a little brown and droopy. You made a mental note to water them later.

You stretched your sore legs out, cramped from sleeping, probably, as you made your way to your computer. You’d give working on your paper another go and hop to the cafeteria for dinner for breakfast.

You stopped, your hand on the back of the desk chair—your movement frozen in place as your mind tried to comprehend what was on the screen. 

In your dream, there had been typing. Maybe…maybe you had written this before you fell asleep? It wasn’t even words, just shapes and symbols. You felt fear creep up from the pit of your stomach as you leaned over to reach your mouse. You highlighted what was on your screen. The font select informed you it was Wingdings type one. You just wanted to delete it, but a part of you, a very small but loud part of you, wanted to see what it said.

You deleted it.

Your phone rang.

Once.

Your phone rang.

Twice.

Your phone rang a third time and you moved quickly across the room for it, you were embarrassed at yourself for how much your hands were shaking as you picked your shitty flip phone up off the nightstand. You flipped it open to see the number. A wave of relief, much to your surprise because phone calls filled you with dread usually, washed over you.

It was the number of a family who had posted a baby sitter want ad on the commons room cork board. You had called this number and left yours about a week ago and were fairly certain that you had been forgotten about. Her number was still stuck in your head, tho, which was weird as most of the time you couldn’t even remember your own.

Even though your room and board and classes were covered, you needed money for just about everything else. You qualified for work study but the work study office expected you to have more work experience. Like, um, what? Where were you suppose to get that? 

You accepted the call and said “Hello?” into the phone. You internally cringed at the sound of your own shaking voice.

“Hello,” A feminine voice met your ears, the tenseness coiled in your chest unwound. You caught yourself mid-way in a sigh. You hoped she didn’t hear you breathe heavy into the phone, “Forgive me for calling so late in the day.”

Before you could finish telling her it was alright, she said, “I know its terribly short notice but if you’re available tonight it would mean so much to me.”

You made a noncommittal “Uhhhhh” noise as if you had anything but self loathing and essay writing to do.

“I’ll pay for extra for this inconvenience, I’m so sorry.”

You agreed before she even finished her sentence. You two talked for a moment about the street address and if you had a ride and if you knew where it was, you lied and said yes to both of those things; not wanting to sour this windfall, too eager to please.

After exchanging goodbyes, you both hung up. You felt a loss when her voice was gone but the warmth of her voice lingered like a big strong hug. 

You googled up her location. It didn’t look… _too_ far. You could walk it. You’ve walked farther before.

As you were printing out the map with step by step instructions on which street to take, your phone rang again. 

You figured she was calling back, having forgotten something. You rarely got phone calls; what was the chance of getting phone calls from two separate people back to back on the same day in such close proximity to each other?

You flipped your phone open, pressing talk and said a confident “Hello!” into it.

A voice you didn’t recognize filled your ear.

“Hello! Can I speak to G…Wait a second.Is this the wrong number?”

A reasonable pleasant and bouncy tune began to play, like a old school ad jingle. This was some kind of telemarketer, you were going to hang up, you were—

Unable to pull the phone away from your face. Unable to just hit the cancel button. The voice on the other end began to sing. 

“Oh it’s the wrong number! The wrong number song! We’re very very sorry that we got it wrong! Oh, it’s the wrong number! The wrong number song! We’re very very sorry that we got it wrong!”

Your phone went silent. Not a hang up sound or static or breath, just dead like a landline when the phone wires are down. Dead.

The call had ended itself. You checked your phone logs to see the number so you could reverse look it up. But.

Your phone didn’t log the call. As far as it was concerned, the last phone call you received was from that nice mom.

You wanted out of this room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! theres more to come,,,catch me here as well! http://monokuma-theater.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! theres more to come,,,catch me here as well! http://monokuma-theater.tumblr.com/


End file.
